These Days Are Dark
by PolarBearMagus
Summary: Short one-shots for the girls of HP.
1. Ginny: Third Task

_A/N: Rereading GoF, I was surprised, disappointed, and slightly shocked that Ginny, Fred, and George weren't in the infirmary with Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, Hermione, and Sirius. Ginny checked on Harry when he got in quidditch accidents, why didn't she come when he nearly died facing Voldemort? So I decided to explore her POV from the end of the third task to Harry's recovery, but kind of glossed over the angst-filled days of worrying (admit it, it would have gotten boring after a while – in those situations you think the same things over and over again)._

"Can you see him?!" she asked, masking her love as well as her fear. "Is he all right?" She tried to use Michael like a step ladder, but all she could see were bobbing heads. It was no use; she'd have to rely on his commentary.

"Oof!" cried Michael. "Oh, that's gotta hurt!"

"What's going on?" Ginny asked glacially. She and Michael might not have been dating that long, but he knew that expression well and answered promptly.

"He and Cedric were attacked by a giant spider and –" heads moved out of the way in just the right order, like turning a key in a lock, and Ginny could clearly see the small red dot of Harry get snatched up. She gasped, and her hand latched onto Michael's arm.

_Come on Harry,_ she thought, _you've fought worse than this, an acromantula's old school._

There was a small burst of light near the acromantula's mouth and Harry dropped like a bludger. The spider fell over, unconscious, and now it was just Harry, so close to the finish, the only one around –

"Cedric!" she said in surprise. "Harry and Cedric…they're just talking. Oh!" she cried when Cedric helped Harry over to the cup. "He's hurt!"

"They'll fix it Ginny, that's what an infirmary's for," said Michael. He sounded annoyed, but she didn't care, she was watching Harry and Cedric. As one, they reached out and grabbed the triwizard cup and –

- disappeared.

"NO!" she shouted as a shockwave rumbled through the spectators. She spotted Ron and Hermione a few rows down and before she could think she was pushing past all the burly sixth-years and tiny first-years – (Ginny! Where are you going?! Come back!) – until she was right behind them.

"Do you see him?" she asked, trying to breathe slowly.

Ron shook his head in disbelief. "Do you think this is part of the task?"

Ginny, closer to the maze than before, scanned the area between the hedges and the stands, but there was no sign of him. Of either of them.

"No," said Hermione. "Something's wrong, look at the teachers!"

Ginny and her brother twisted their heads to see over the crowd, which was slowly growing more chaotic, and spotted the teachers. Dumbledore looked angrier than she had ever seen him. McGonagall had returned from her perimeter check of the maze, lips so thin they were nearly invisible. They spoke in hushed voices. Madame Maxime was hovering over a trembling Fleur; Krum was being brought out of the maze on a stretcher, but Karkaroff was nowhere to be seen.

"Well how do we get him back?" Ginny demanded since it didn't seem people had made that jump in logic yet.

"I don't know," whispered Hermione. She looked like she was about to cry.

Ginny went back to watching the teachers. They were trying to keep their panic to a minimum, but what little slipped through magnified ten times in the students.

Suddenly Snape approached Dumbledore and started to rant silently. He pointed to his right arm, then to the empty triwizard cup pedestal. Dumbledore looked absolutely livid now, but managed to shake his head and whisper his response.

She didn't know how long she stood there, watching alternatively the teachers – who would be the first to learn new information – and the spot where Harry had disappeared, hoping with her entire heart that that had not been the last time she would ever see him. Hours passed, then days. Ginny would have only been half-surprised if it started snowing and her dad showed up shouting "Happy Christmas!"

She shook her head. To think thoughts like that at a time like this? When her eyes cleared, she noticed there was something on the ground in front of the maze. Something red and yellow. It was Harry and Cedric, but they weren't moving. She tried to see if they were breathing, but she was either too far or…

Time literally stopped. Her brain could not process that information. There was no way Harry would let himself die, he was too strong for that, too brave. Brave like Gryffindor, whose sword he had pulled out of a hat to save her from the basilisk. No! There had to have been another sword for him to find, another miracle that kept him alive and well and within her sights, if only for the few precious moments they had together. If he was really gone this time…

Time accelerated and everyone else noticed Harry and Cedric at the same time, and she started getting pushed one way and then another until she was separated from Ron and Hermione.

"HARRY!" she screamed. Maybe he would hear her. Maybe he would wake up. "HARRY! _HARRY!_" Something shoved into her back and she gasped in pain as she stumbled forward into the railing. Clenching the rails for support, she watched Fudge try to wrench Cedric from Harry's grasp.

A shudder went through the stadium. "He's dead!" they said. "Diggory's dead!"

And even though she knew it was horrible of her, that it was completely the wrong reaction, she breathed a sigh of relief. If they were upset that _Cedric_ was dead, then _Harry_ was still alive.

She caught one more glimpse of him as he was taken up to the castle: worn face, haunted eyes, wounded leg, the movements of someone in shock. He looked like he'd been to hell and back.

_But he's one of the few that made it back at all,_ she thought.

She didn't even care when she collapsed, placed her head in her hands, and really cried for the first time in her life while the mob pushed past her, because for now, that one thought was all that mattered.

* * *

"Please Madam Pomfrey, just one minute, that's all I ask! Please, just to make sure he's okay." Madam Pomfrey looked skeptical and seemed about to start her speech on knowing more about medicine than a mere student, and then frowned. She quietly pulled the door shut and it was just the two of them in the hall.

"Please?"

"You don't look so well yourself. Been getting enough sleep?"

She reddened. She couldn't sleep, she couldn't eat, not until she could see him. She couldn't get past the 'what if' thoughts that spun around and around in her mind. What if Harry died in the infirmary and the last time she'd talked to him was to wish him luck at the tournament and the last time she'd seen him was him being led up to Hogwarts by Professor Moody, almost a corpse himself.

"Please," she repeated, no longer trying to hide the despair she had been living in these past few days.

Madam Pomfrey smiled sadly. "All right," she said, opening the door.

"You can see him."


	2. Lily: Final Scene

_A/N: After the scene of the first movie, and the scene in Deathly Hallows, this moment has haunted me, so I decided to write a short drabble for it. Only Lily's thoughts on James – does not include her sacrifice for Harry. All of these thoughts happen in about half a second._

- and then I heard the words dreaded and feared by every person in the wizarding world. Two little words that signify the end of everything.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The room, the house, even the front yard, lit up for one instant with a bright green flash, and my entire world narrowed down to one thought.

He was dead.

My James was dead.

I could still see him reclining on his seat on the Hogwarts Express, his disheveled black hair falling across his hazel eyes, his face lit with a lopsided grin for his best friend. He was laughing in the back of the classroom when the professor was preoccupied. He was scoring the first goal against Slytherin, fist pumping the air in triumph. He was patrolling the halls with me, pathetically and endearingly trying to impress me, to show me he had changed, that he was now the perfect gentleman. He was running his hand through his hair to make it look particularly windswept. He was dodging curses cast by the Death Eaters. He was taking my hand while someone took a picture of the Order. He was sending me his stag patronus to let me know that yes, he was safe. He was, to my complete but happy surprise, proposing, saying "I do."

When exactly did he become mine? When had I gone from pure hatred to unconditional love? I don't think I'll ever know.

Four years. Four short years. We could have had longer if I had been less obstinate, if he had been more civil, if Voldemort hadn't marked our son for death. We were supposed to grow old together. Now we only had four years.

It should have been always.

It should have been forever.

Now he was gone.

Always.

Forever.

James.

I screamed.

I screamed, always and forever, holding our son as close to me as possible.

_He_ was coming –


	3. Hermione: Chess

_A/N: I wanted to do a Hermione scene too, to even things out. I debated for a bit on what to cover, and decided on the day before she was petrified. Pretty random scene, but I think it turned out okay._

"Queen to D7."

Ron's queen slid across the chessboard and whacked Hermione's rook over the head with her scepter. Ron sweeped the remains into his large collection of conquered pieces and triumphantly declared "check!"

Hermione stared at the board in confused frustration. She couldn't figure out what she had done wrong.

Ron's smile faltered when he saw her expression. "Come on, Hermione. You've never lost this badly before, even when you were learning."

"I know," she said, wilting. "I just can't concentrate."

Nerves were running high with the rising number of attacks and the constant fear of being the next victim. After all, if the monster could petrify a ghost like Nearly Headless Nick…So Ron had suggested a break from school with a game of wizard's chess. Harry had declined. Intense Quidditch practice for tomorrow's match had put him behind, and he needed to finish his transfiguration essay. Hermione, always on top of her assignments, had agreed to play Ron for at least one game. After all, Ron hadn't finished his essay either.

"King to A6."

"No, no! She doesn't mean it!" Ron told the pieces.

"What? Of course I mean it," Hermione said crossly. "My king's in danger, so I'm moving him out of the way."

"Yeah, but look." Ron pointed at the pieces as he talked about them. "If you move your king to A6, then I'll move my bishop here, which will threaten your other rook, so you'll move him out of the way, leaving me free to come in with my queen and finish the job."

Hermione looked blankly from one piece to another and realized he was right. Her throat tightened and her eyes burned. "I should have seen it," she muttered. "It's so obvious and I missed it."

"No, that's not it," said Ron. She was still amazed by how different he was when they played chess together. He was in his element, and proud of it. "You're good at logic, Hermione, and this is somewhat the same thing."

"No, it's strategy. Knowing what people will play so many moves in advance, I can't do that."

"Well, that's true," said Ron bluntly. "So control the things you can: your pieces. For example, your king. You could move him out of the way, like you were doing, but you could move him to a different space, which might have an effect on what I do next. You could attack my queen, or distract me, or set a trap for me. There are hundreds of ways. What you have to do is learn the limits, the rules, the _logic_ of the game, and then you can start exploring the game from different angles."

Hermione felt it was strange for one of the most straight forward people she knew to tell _her _about looking at something from different angles. But he had so few moments to shine. "Okay, thanks Ron."

"Want to start over?" he asked, and she could tell that he really didn't want to give up when he was so close to beating her at something. And wasn't losing the game the whole point to her playing?

This time, she moved a knight between the queen and the king. Then she grinned. If the queen took her knight, she could take the queen the next turn with her last pawn. Her king was safe. For now.

"Excellent," said Ron, and moved his queen to a more strategic, but more dangerous, location.

His queen was also safe.

For now.


	4. Tonks: Full Moon

_A/N: Tonks and Remus. Yup. I figured _anything _with them would be cliché, but I'd try anyway. Based on my mom's experience of locking herself in a room when a coyote got into the house. On a sidenote, I wonder what happened between Tonks and Remus after this scene? Hmmm…_

Tonks sat at the table, hands wrapped around a hot cup of tea, listening to the furniture upstairs rattle and creak. It was her first full moon with Remus, and she couldn't tell which of them it hurt more. Remus wanted her out of the house entirely, but she had refused. "I'll be fine," she had insisted, and kissed him before locking him into the room with the strongest doors.

Then she waited.

It was the screaming that was the worst, more than the destruction of furniture or the scratching at the door. Every howl sent a shudder through her. Such pain, and she couldn't do anything to help. Once, behind Remus' back, she had looked up the wolfsbane potion so that he would be able to keep his mind when he transformed, but it was horridly complicated with millions of things to screw up, each with dangerous side-effects. And potions had never been her forte.

It was quiet, and her senses sharpened.

Faintly, very faintly, she heard the sound of nails tapping on the wood of the upstairs hallway. Remus had gotten out of the room.

She was terrified, but Aurors knew how to keep a cool head. While she silently rose from her chair, she mentally slapped herself for being scared of Remus and all that werewolves represented. It was an old fear instilled from childhood, but experience had taught her that such generalizations and horror stories did more harm than good.

She moved too fast. Her chair overbalanced and crashed to the floor. The werewolf started running. He reached the stairs.

Tonks bolted in the opposite direction. The only room with a door in this part of the house was the bathroom. She ducked in, slammed the door shut, locked it, and threw herself against it. She tried to catch her breath and not breathe at the same time. Remus slammed into the door.

She was ashamed of herself for being frightened. Half of her didn't care if Remus bit her then and there. They would both be werewolves and he could stop worrying about being too dangerous for her. But the other, more rational half, recognized that Remus would never forgive himself if she too became a werewolf. And that Remus was one she never wanted to meet.

He slammed into the door again. She thought it would give way this time, but it held. She couldn't think of any spells that would help fortify the door. All she could do was wait.

Remus paced back and forth in the hallway, as if waiting for some sign. Tonks shivered and tucked her knees up to her chest. She didn't know what time it was, but hoped morning would come soon, for Remus' sake more than her own.

Otherwise it would be the longest night of her life.


End file.
